Survival Guide After Accidentally Kissing a Demon - Chapter 336

Chapter 336

Madam Constance’s funeral was to span three days.

Most members of the Noble class left after attending the first day’s memorial service in Butterfly Valley, while some members of the Noble class with close ties to the Butterfly Family would stay at the castle.

Beili had planned to visit the Imperial Palace after the funeral to speak with Cyril. Instead, she learned from Susanna that Cyril was already staying at the castle.

Oh… Cyril had even come looking for her and spoken to her earlier today?

Beili had no memory of it at all.

Her thoughts had been consumed by death.

The night was black as ink.

Thick clouds obscured the moonlight, leaving even the castle’s stone steps impossible to make out.

Beili stopped outside a guest room.

She held a package of food wrapped in oiled paper, its warmth still seeping through to her fingertips.

Knock, knock.

She raised her hand and gently knocked on the door.

A faint rustle came from inside. A moment later, the door opened a crack.

A black-haired, violet-eyed young man stood behind it.

Water still dripped from his short black hair.

Droplets slid from the ends of his hair and fell onto his pale blue night robe.

His cold violet eyes swept over her without interest. In an emotionless voice, he asked, “What is it?”

Beili held out the oiled-paper package first.

Cyril lowered his gaze to it but made no move to accept it. He merely raised an eyebrow and asked, “What’s this?”

“Freshly baked blueberry pie.”

Beili calmly explained, “You often had it for breakfast at the Academy, so I asked the kitchen to make two for you as a late-night snack.”

Cyril’s gaze shifted from the package to her face. An almost imperceptible emotion flickered in his violet eyes.

“I don’t eat at night.”

He looked away indifferently.

Beili’s hand paused.

When she had asked the butler which guest room Cyril was staying in, he had mentioned that the prince had ordered a late-night snack, only to cancel it for some unknown reason. That was why she had brought him two blueberry pies.

She hadn’t expected him to be so strict about his diet.

Beili silently drew the package back behind her.

“Never mind. Give it to me.”

A pale hand suddenly appeared in front of her.

“Oh,” Beili murmured, placing the package in his hand again.

His slender fingers gently unwrapped the oiled paper, revealing the crisp, golden crust within.

Cyril lowered his head and took a bite. As the blueberries’ sweet and tart flavor spread across his tongue, his faintly furrowed brows relaxed.

“It tastes acceptable.”

After swallowing, he added, “But don’t bring me food at night again. Eating this late will make me fat.”

Fat?

Even the esteemed Prince Cyril was worried about gaining weight?

“Your figure is already perfectly proportioned. You’re not fat at all,” Beili said flatteringly.

“Some people don’t like perfectly proportioned figures.”

Cyril’s face remained expressionless.

The image of a slender young man flashed through Beili’s mind.

Beili’s blinking suddenly became a little stiff.

“Prince Cyril.”

She had intended to look him directly in the eyes when she brought this up, but after hearing that remark, she could only avert her crimson eyes. She cleared her throat before continuing.

“Could you leave Sainthos and retrieve something from the Far South?”
“Your Highness may name the terms of the exchange, as long as they’re within my power,” she said.

The brow that had only just relaxed furrowed again at her words.

“You know who I am. I cannot leave Sainthos at will.”

His violet eyes glimmered faintly in the darkness as Cyril set down the blueberry pie in his hand.

“This isn’t important only to me.”

Beili was unsurprised by his answer. She calmly raised her crimson eyes.

“If Your Highness were willing to travel to the Far South and retrieve that item sooner, perhaps the prophecy concerning Sainthos could also be resolved sooner.”

“They say the quickest way to resolve the prophecy is to get rid of you.”

Cyril’s gaze lingered on her face for a moment as he reminded her coolly.

Beili stood where she was and slowly asked, “Is Your Highness truly unaware of His Majesty’s intentions?”

“Bartholomew-”

Cyril abruptly reached out, his pale fingers clamping around her chin. A warning glinted in his violet eyes.

“Do you know who you’re speaking to? If you don’t learn to hold your tongue, one careless remark may be all it takes for the Constance Family to disappear from the Sainthos Kingdom.”

Beili said nothing more. She simply looked at him in silence.

The air around them suddenly grew tense and still.

After a moment, Cyril released her and turned his face aside. His voice was cold as he said, “If you don’t want to marry me, you’d better find yourself another way out as soon as possible.”

Beili had no intention of taking the conversation that far. She could only say, “I’ll take Susanna with me to the Far South.”

If Cyril refused to go, she would have to take his place.

“The Far South is no place for an ordinary person.” At the mention of taking Susanna, Cyril’s brow furrowed even deeper. “The dangers there are beyond anything you can imagine. Even I can’t guarantee that I would return unscathed, much less if you brought Susanna with you.”

“If you’re worried about Susanna, then come with us.”

Beili spoke quickly.

Cyril whipped his head around to look at her.

“What for?”

A trace of anger flickered in his icy violet eyes.

“For that person? Or for yourself?” he demanded.

Beili parted her lips, but in the end, she only said softly,

“To bring all of this to an end.”

The taut atmosphere abruptly fell silent.

Cyril stared at her for a moment before finally speaking, each word measured.

“Your persistence surprises me, Bartholomew. But unfortunately, I cannot grant your request.”

“The reason is the same one I gave you at the beginning. As the First in Line to the Throne of Sainthos, I cannot go to a place like that.”

Beili nodded, as though she had expected this outcome.

“If Your Highness changes your mind, speak into this brooch.”

Beili held out her hand, and a black butterfly appeared in her palm.

After gently fluttering its wings, it flattened into a hard ornament that looked as though it had been carved from black diamond.

“Forgive the intrusion, Your Highness.”

She dipped into a slight bow, then turned and left.

Her footsteps and that flash of silver-gray gradually receded down the corridor.

Cyril stood in the doorway, watching her figure vanish into the darkness. A complicated emotion flashed through his violet eyes.

He glanced down at the black butterfly in his hand, gave a cold snort, and closed his fist around it. Then he turned and shut the door.